


Torn Apart

by Varkelton



Series: Consent [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Dark, Forced Orgasm, Graphic Rape, Graphic Violence, M/M, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-16
Updated: 2009-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varkelton/pseuds/Varkelton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is taken by a demon. This is a prequel to An Issue of Consent, but is intended to be read second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn Apart

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating** : What’s worse than NC-17?  
>  **Disclaimer** : Do you suppose if I asked sweetly, the boys would give themselves to me? Yeah, not after they read my stories. Labor of love. No profit.  
>  **Dedication** : For [](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**amara_m**](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/). Because I’m lucky to be able to claim her as a very good friend, and because she totally enables my dark and twisted side…  
>  **Beta and Thanks** : Huge thanks to [](http://nighean-isis.livejournal.com/profile)[**nighean_isis**](http://nighean-isis.livejournal.com/) for the beta, [](http://rivestra.livejournal.com/profile)[**rivestra**](http://rivestra.livejournal.com/) and [](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**amara_m**](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/) for the flailing and cheerleading, and to [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=ianthe_aviera)[****](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=ianthe_aviera)for the last minute read-through and reassurance that it was good. I couldn’t have done this without them.  
>  **Author’s Note** : This is the precipitating event for **_[An Issue of Consent](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/11848.html)_** and it takes place about five and a half months before the beginning of that story. It can be read as a stand-alone, but is actually meant to be read after the main story. Or, you know, not at all. My muse is sick and I needed to get this out of my head. **_Most sane people will not want to dwell with me here._**
> 
> It is not necessary to read this story to follow the rest of the ‘verse, so if it’s at all likely to squick you, give it a miss.

  
Sam’s eyes blurred as he stared at the tiny text, trying to make the words make sense. He glanced at his watch. Still another hour before Dean was supposed to meet him here. He shut the large tome with a thud and threw the pencil down in frustration, rubbing his fingers over his tired eyes. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. Maybe he’d be better off calling it a day. He hadn’t been sleeping well the last few nights, his dreams filled with dark and twisted images that he couldn’t quite piece together in the morning. What he really needed was a good night’s sleep.

He’d almost mentioned the nightmares to Dean this morning. They kind of had the feel of visions. But he hadn’t had dream visions for a while now, and they truly weren’t coherent – just kind of dark and depraved. Which, yeah. They weren’t visions; he was just tired and desperate for an explanation that didn’t involve him and lying down on a couch, and a shrink.

Maybe a cup of coffee would help.

He closed the laptop carefully, put it into his satchel with his notebook, and walked out of the library. He’d get the coffee and wait for Dean on the library steps.

“Excuse me,” a man said from behind him as his feet left the stairs. The deep voice sent a shiver down Sam’s back and he whirled around, startled. Sam hadn’t even noticed the man slipping up close behind him. The sheer physical presence of the man was a little bit disconcerting; he was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Sam, and completely muscle-bound, in too-tight jeans and a shirt that must be the origin of the phrase _painted on_. Sam would have categorized him as beautiful, if he noticed that kind of thing about men. Which he didn’t. He felt a warm flush flow over his face and down his neck.

Sam swallowed. “Can I help you?” Uneasiness surged through him and he took a step back. He didn’t want the strange man near him.

“Please,” the man whispered as he kept pace with Sam and reached out a hand, placing it on Sam’s shoulder. The touch flooded sensation through him, dirty and wrong, and Sam looked at the man, alarmed. The man had huge, dark eyes, the kind that felt like they could bore a hole into your soul. “Please,” he repeated, “I need your help.”

Sam felt the sincerity of the man’s words like a physical weight and, despite his misgivings, he found himself nodding and silently following the man down the street. They walked around to the back of the library. There were no windows here, just a narrow walkway separating the library from the building next to it.

The man suddenly stopped and swung Sam around, pushing his back against the wall, hard enough to push the air out of his lungs.

“What?” Sam managed to get out before the man was crowding into his space and pressing their lips together. The man opened his mouth over Sam’s in a messy kiss, letting his tongue trace over Sam’s lips, licking over him and demanding entrance. Sam opened to him eagerly, letting him plunder his mouth like he was drowning and the man was giving him air, and it was like a direct connection had been forged between Sam’s mouth and his crotch, his dick coming alive, achingly hard and wanting in a matter of moments.

The man pulled back and Sam whimpered at the loss of connection. “Come with me,” the man ordered, and moved away.

“Dean…” Sam whispered, not even sure what the name meant to him, except… this wasn’t… “Dean,” Sam repeated, a little louder, still leaning against the wall, clinging to the name like a talisman.

The man was several steps away from him before he stopped, muscles twitching and tense… waiting.

Sam ached to follow him, but he dug his fingers painfully into the brick instead. “Dean,” he whispered hoarsely once more, gaining strength from it. The man turned back, surprise evident in his clear gaze. His lips curved up at the corners, promising sin, and Sam shut his eyes against the sight. Sam felt him move back into his space, his mouth coming in close and licking lightly over his lips. Sam opened his mouth, letting the tips of their tongues slide gently together, the warm, slightly tangy taste of the man’s saliva making him desperate.

“I said, _come with me_.” The man’s voice shivered over him, and this time, when he moved away, Sam followed in a daze, completely unable to refuse.

~o0O0o~

Sam blinked slowly in confusion, unable to see anything, his vision completely gone. Slight panic crawled up his spine and he blinked again, desperate to make out something, anything, but there was nothing. He _wasn’t blind_ , there was just no light. That _had_ to be why he couldn’t see.

He’d been following that man… and now he was standing somewhere in the dark.

“Hello?” he called out loudly, anger and confusion coloring his voice.

It echoed slightly, so he wasn’t outside, but whatever kind of building he was in, it was big. There was no answer and Sam searched his memory frantically, but there wasn’t anything, one minute he was answering a stranger’s request for help, and the next he was… here.

Sam took a cautious step forward and realized two things simultaneously: first, he was completely naked, and second, there was some kind of chain attached to his ankle. He dropped down into a crouch and ran his hands over the smooth manacle that was fastened tightly over his right foot. He tugged on it, but there was no way that it was slipping off without breaking bones.

It was cold, cold enough that his breath was probably coming out in white fog, if he could see. He shivered, mostly from the temperature, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. None of this made any fucking sense whatsoever.

He yanked on the chain, the resulting screech of metal loud in the cavernous space, did it a few more times, but the chain was solid and not very long. He ran his hands along it, searching for any weak points, and found nothing. It was only about three feet in length, the metal thick and unbroken and bolted solidly to the ground.

“Why don’t you show yourself, asshole?” he yelled, the sound echoing back at him briefly before bathing him in silence once more. What the hell was it with him getting taken by crazy people? This was… creepier than the Benders. Cages were much more… he bit his lip, refusing to follow that train of thought.

He stood and took another step forward. Pain bit sharply into the bottom of his foot, the sheer unexpectedness of it causing him to stumble backward and fall hard, landing against something he vaguely identified as furniture-like before grabbing at his foot. Something sharp and gritty covered the bottom of it and when he went to brush it off, it bit into his hand as well, causing the sharp metallic smell of blood to fill the air. “Shit,” he whispered. His hand and foot were both wet with it now.

He scraped his hand and foot against the ground, removing most of the grit as best he could before cradling his still oozing hand against his chest. He used his other hand to reach behind him. There was a short gap between the floor and the thing he was leaning against. It was covered with material and his hand traveled up and onto a soft flat surface.

What was it, a fucking _mattress_? He stood and ran a tentative hand over the surface of it, but there didn’t seem to be anything sharp here. The mattress was on some sort of metal platform. He tried to give it a shove. Nothing. Of course it was also bolted down.

The cold felt like a caress across his back and he stiffened, suddenly desperate for something to cover himself with, but the mattress was bare. Not even sheets that he could strip off and he sat down on the edge of it, hugging himself and willing away the fear that was starting to claw its way out of his throat.

He couldn’t afford to panic. Dean would be missing him soon. The man couldn’t have gotten him far. He couldn’t… he still couldn’t remember how he got here, but he didn’t feel drugged, so he must’ve struggled, must have left some clue behind.

He toyed with the idea of getting off the bed, but it seemed a little bit stupid to go exploring a booby-trapped environment in the dark when he was chained up anyway. He’d just have to wait for the man to show up, and then he’d take the fucker out. Use the man’s fucking body to clear a path. The asshole didn’t know who he’d messed with.

The cold was starting to get to him, and he curled in tighter around himself. He had no idea how much time was passing, and that was starting to make him feel a little nuts. The blackness all around him was starting to feel like a physical weight and he pressed himself into the mattress like it could somehow protect him.

His brain spun over everything he could remember after the man approached him on the library steps, going over it again and again, but he still couldn’t come up with anything new. He tried to distract himself by thinking about Stanford, about Jess, but that still hurt too much so he went back further, reminiscing about himself and Dean when they were growing up. He managed to lose himself in that for a while, until the quiet and the cold and the darkness forced their way back in. He tried thinking back to classes and fighting moves and logic games, but nothing worked for long. This must be what solitary confinement was like. What the hell did it want from him? Why the hell wasn’t it showing itself?

His throat was parched and he swallowed painfully; the thirst had been building for a while now, his body getting desperate for water, and it was becoming almost impossible to ignore. At least he wasn’t hungry, the stress of his predicament was at least taking care of that.

 _How long had he been here?_ He really had no idea, and for some reason that disconnect sent a new wave of fear cresting over him.

It’d been long enough that the cold was causing violent tremors that he couldn’t control, long enough that the wounds on his hand and foot had stopped bleeding ages ago, long enough for him to hover endlessly at the edge of sleep, the cold and fear keeping him from finding relief in oblivion.

“Dean!” he heard himself cry out the name without realizing he was going to.

The name sounded lost and weak and he bit his lip to prevent himself from calling out again. _But surely Dean had to be getting close by now_. “Dean!” he called out again, and then again, hoping that somehow Dean would hear him and find him. He kept it up for a long time, calling out Dean’s name until his voice was ragged and words could only slip out in a whisper. He berated himself for a while after he was forced to stop calling out, for being stupid enough to give into panic. Panic was for amateurs, not for people like him.

He entertained the idea of trying to dig into the mattress with his bare hands, imagining covering himself with the cotton in the mattress with longing. He had nothing to cut with though.

He couldn’t just sit there anymore. He got off the bed and reached out to the place he’d stepped in before, and discovered a clear arc a couple of feet wide around the foot of the bed. Nothing else was safe, and his fingers were a bloody mess by the time he gave up the search. The glass on the floor, or whatever it was, was too fine to be able to pick up and wield. He was pretty sure the bed was welded to the ground. Eventually he gave up the search, and curled back up on the mattress to wait.

After a while, sheer fatigue drove him into a restless sleep filled with nightmares, but it was never quite deep enough to shield himself from the passage of time.

~o0O0o~

“Samuel…” the whispered name drove him up to his knees, adrenaline surging through him, allowing him to go into a fighting stance despite the cold ache in his joints. He looked frantically around in the dark, as if he could see his attacker somewhere. “Samuel, so beautiful…” the whispered voice came again, echoing all around him.

He felt the brush of skin down his back and he swung around, throwing a punch that met with air. “Where the _fuck_ are you?” he growled out with his still ruined voice. Instinctively he swung out again and this time he hit flesh with a satisfying thud.

His hand was grabbed and forced painfully behind his back, and he tried helplessly to arch away from it, but the creature – it had to be a _creature_ – wrapped steel arms around his chest and held him in a vice grip. It was naked too. He could feel it behind him. He froze, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Now, now,” it said calmly into his ear. Its voice was deep and melodic, and felt like a caress. An _unwanted_ caress. “I always like it better when my toys aware for the first time, but… it’s never a good idea to make me mad, you know…”

A finger circled gently over his nipple, and Sam jerked in its arms. “Fuck you!” Sam replied angrily, managing to swing one of his feet back to connect solidly with its groin, his foot sinking into the soft flesh of its balls. Pain blossomed in his head, the force of impact slamming him down onto the bed, leaving him gasping and unaware for a few precious minutes.

By the time he’d managed to shake it off, his hands were tightly secured to the edge of the bed with something that felt metal and strong. The thing was straddling his back, running its hands up and down his back and sides, hands that were hard and strong but felt _wrong_ , somehow, and it was crooning disgustingly over him. “I didn’t want to restrain you, Samuel, I don’t usually need to you know, but you’re a _special one_ , different than the rest… better…”

Its voice sounded possessive and sick and Sam tried to cling to his anger, wanted to hurl the thing’s words back in its face, but… “Just let me go, please,” he heard himself beg weakly.

“Oh, never Samuel, you _belong_ to me now.” Sam could feel the smile in the thing’s voice and his breath hitched in fear, and, _damn it_ , he wasn’t _that guy_. He shook it off, started struggling again as something hard and angular was forced under his stomach, digging painfully into the softer flesh of his abdomen, and pushing his ass up into the air.

There wasn’t much give left in the chain around his ankle, but he managed to swing the other leg back enough for impact. It couldn’t have been very effective though because the creature didn’t even really react this time, just made a tsking noise before another chain was snapped around him, and he could still move, but not effectively enough to attack.

The chain made a clicking noise when it locked that echoed around the room and froze Sam in place. It felt… final.

There was a collective stillness as Sam lay paralyzed with fear, as if the very building was waiting to see what would happen next.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Sam grated out, and that seemed to start everything in motion again.

“You will try,” it scoffed. The deep voice settled in his bones, delivering hopelessness and failure like a physical weight. It pushed his head down, grinding it into the mattress as it stroked its tongue across the back of his neck. It was… cold, slimy, at odds with the sex the creature seemed to exude, and Sam whimpered under the violation. He yanked his hands and feet against the chains again despite the blossoming pain, but there was nothing he could do to stop this. Dean… Dean needed to show up _now_.

“Think of it this way, Samuel. I could make you want this, but I’m not going to. You should thank me…”

The thing licked its way slowly down Sam’s back, kept going when it reached his butt and slipped into his ass, causing an unpleasant tickling sensation. “No, don’t do this,” he whimpered, clenching his muscles together in a futile attempt to keep the thing out, keep it away, and he pulled frantically at his wrists, uncaring of the damage he was causing to himself. Just like a trapped bird, and no more effective.

The creature forced the cheeks of his ass apart and continued licking at him, running its tongue from the top of his crack down, until it reached his balls and sucked them into its mouth, testing the weight of them before doing it again, unrelenting, until saliva was pooling in the small of his back and slipping down over his scrotum. The litany of defeated denial streaming from his lips, that he couldn’t seem to stop, only seemed to encourage it.

It finally released him, sitting up slightly to tease, “Oh, you taste so good, pet.”

“Stop, just stop, please… Dean!” he called out brokenly.

“Oh yes, Dean,” the thing smiled, “the lovely _Dean_ , how I _do hope_ he shows up to join the party.”

And Sam’s gut convulsed at the thought, of Dean being here to witness this, or worse, being here to take his place. His stomach seized again, this time bringing up bile to soak into the mattress.

The thing waited for him to bring himself back under control before running its fingers over his hole and then it suddenly pushed one inside of him, and somehow that was worse than any stab wound he’d ever received.

Burning pain filled him as it slowly sank inside, a long nail tearing its way into his center, ripping straight through him, and he screamed, feeling like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest.

It pulled the digit out and Sam gasped in relief, his rapid breaths making him feel lightheaded. This couldn’t be real. It was just a _dream_ , just some horribly fucked up dream, and he found himself whispering prayers into the mattress to please, _please God_ just let him wake up.

The thing shifted over him, and suddenly something a lot larger than a finger was pushing into him, and he thought, if he could just die now, that would be okay...

Aching, fiery pain exploded around him as it caught on the outer muscle of his ass, and then it pushed through with a sudden burst of force, and an agonized sob forced it way out of his mouth.

The thing bent over him and licked up the shell of his ear in an obscene parody of a lover, leaving it damp before whispering, “Shh, Samuel, it’s only in a little bit, just the head really, there’s a lot more to go. Just relax. I promise it will still hurt.”

The little puffs of breath against his wet ear felt cold, and Sam thought it was odd that he would focus on such a stupid little detail, but maybe it was better than focusing on the big stuff. The thing grunted as it pushed a little farther in, causing the burning to grow unbearably, and Sam lay there, panting sobs into the mattress, unable to process what was happening, unmoving and unresisting as it pushed in some more, his muscles cramping around the foreign intrusion.

It continued to sink slowly inside until its balls were resting against Sam’s ass, and Sam let out a broken breath of relief that the worst was over.

The thing chuckled over him. “You’re… so... tight!” it exclaimed gleefully as it pulled out and then slammed back into him hard, causing the pain to explode and fill him, way worse than the initial intrusion had been.

The wedge under his stomach pressed bruises into his flesh as the creature pistoned in and out of him. It seemed to go on forever, and Sam couldn’t even cry out anymore, could only whisper Dean’s name helplessly every so often, even though it was far too late for Dean to come and save him; the thing had reached inside and torn him apart and there was nothing left for Dean to find.

It sank into him once more and then paused, and Sam felt himself clenching around it, frantic to allow his abused muscles to relax, but it was unforgiving and hard inside of him. He held his breath, but the creature still didn’t move, its own rapid inhalations loud in the stillness of the room. His chest grew tight and he couldn’t hold it anymore, broken tears flowing out as he gasped for air.

“Please…” he whimpered, and his voice didn’t even sound like him anymore.

“What do you want, love?” it whispered back, voice laced with evil. “You keep calling for Dean. You want him to come? Come see you like this? I could bring him here for you. Give him a show…”

“No!” Sam sobbed his denial into the mattress. “No, please God, no…”

“Then what do you want baby?”

The thing was still inside him, still pinning him helplessly to the mattress, and Sam just wanted it over. It shifted, sending fresh waves of fire through his body. “Please, just… finish already. Please.”

“Only if you beg me for it,” it breathed into his ear.

“Please, I want you to come!” Sam cried, the last remnants of his soul shattering. “Please just come… just come, please. I need you to come...”

“Oh, Samuel. You’re so delicious.” It laughed cruelly against his skin, and then it was lavishing attention on him with teeth and tongue as it began moving once more, and Sam couldn’t say whether the bites or the thrusts were worse, his litany of quiet prayers muttered through tears failing utterly to distract him from what was happening.

His world narrowed until all he knew was the pain, and he thought it might never end, and then finally, _finally_ he felt the thing shudder over him and cry out in pleasure, and all he could do was be grateful that he was too sore, too broken, to feel it come inside of him.

It pulled out, and Sam hitched out a grateful, choking sigh.

_It was over._

“What, did you think we were done, sweetheart?” it laughed, “We haven’t taken care of _you_ yet. You’re still hard, baby.”

Sam’s heart felt like it stopped in his chest, a wrecked “No,” escaping his lips. There was _no way_ he’d been aroused by that, _no way_ , but the creature reached under him and grabbed his rock hard dick in a vice grip.

Unbelievably, pleasure surged through him at the touch, and he groaned, a small, pathetic needy sound that escaped from his lips like one more betrayal.

The thing caressed over him, running its hand up and down and then up and over the head, again and again, and he thought about trying to move away, but only succeeded in moving his knees apart, giving it better access.

He was rutting into the hand now, the sinuous slide of flesh against flesh becoming an overwhelming need, and he heard the thing laugh coldly. He felt its tongue lick over him, cold and startling, disgusting, but somehow soothing against the ache in his ass at the same time. He pressed back against its mouth, inviting it in as he felt the beginning of an orgasm gather in his groin and then spread up, the pleasure washing over him in waves, his warm come soaking into the mattress beneath him.

The release left him feeling wrung out and used, and he hadn’t wanted that. He _hadn’t_. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice hitching. He sounded broken and dead. Weak.

“Oh, this is just the beginning, my love. I have _such plans_ for you.” The wedge under his stomach was wrenched away, allowing the chains a little more play and it jerked him roughly onto his back, tangling his arms and legs painfully, twisting and pushing until his shoulder popped out of joint and he screamed in agony.

It paused for a moment, long enough for the sharp tearing sensation in his shoulder to ease just back to bearable before wet warmth encompassed the head of his over-sensitized cock. It sucked him into its mouth, licking at the skin like candy, the sensation bordering on painful, and he tried to twist away but there was no place to go, and a surge of fiery pain was his only reward.

“No.... no more, please…” Sam whispered.

The creature sucked painfully on him once more, letting sharp teeth scrap across his skin before letting him go and crawling up his torso. He could feel the slow slide of its body over his skin, sinuous and predatory, could feel it hovering over him while it whispered, “But I have so much more planned for you, my pet.” It ran its tongue up the underside of his chin and he jerked back with a whimper. “But, since you ask so nicely, I suppose I could give you a break, you did just lose your virginity after all…”

White hot anger flushed through him, a desperate need for denial, he’d been with Jess for _three years_ , and this… this was… _no_. His throat closed up, dry and painful, but he managed to growl out, “ _Fuck, you_.”

It chuckled softly, dismissive, and then rolled off of his body in one fluid motion, but stopped short of leaving, choosing instead to run callous hands over his chest and abdomen. Its voice turned low and cold. “But Samuel, this?” it rubbed a hand harshly over his dick, squeezing tightly and causing Sam to cry out. “This is _mine_.”

The hand disappeared, followed by the weight next to him, and Sam held his breath, waiting to see if the thing would really leave this time.

“You know,” it mused into the silence, “your brother probably _will_ find you eventually. I wonder, do you think you’ll be able to protect him? You’ve done such a good job looking after yourself…” Sam blinked against the darkness, the fresh surge of terror making him tremble.

 _He’d never admitted that Dean was his brother_. Never even told it _his_ name. Tears trailed silently down the sides of his face, and he let them fall unheeded.

It pressed a kiss against his temple, slimy and obscene, and then unlocked most of the chains before slipping away, leaving Sam quietly sobbing into the dirty mattress.

  
**~fin**

**Other stories in the verse:  
[Master Post - An Issue of Consent](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/11848.html)  
[Second Prequel: Searching For Answers](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/13105.html)  
[Master Post - Sequel - A Question of Choice](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/29379.html)  
**


End file.
